Guards At The Door
1232 Words
When Emily opened her eyes again, she was on a couch. Not the bed. A couch. Black leather, soft beneath her. She blinked, trying to focus.
He was sitting across from her. The man. Close enough that she could see the sharp line of his jaw, the way his dark eyes tracked her every movement. He was holding something. Ice.
Before she could move, he leaned forward and pressed the ice cube to her lips.
“Lick it,” he said.
His finger pushed the ice into her mouth. Cold. Wet. His finger lingered on her lips, tracing the edge where the ice had melted. Emily’s breath caught. Not from fear. From something else. Something she didn’t want to name.
“You had an allergic reaction,” he said, his voice low. “To the injection. I didn’t know you’d just had lung surgery.”
Emily’s brain caught up. She spat the ice cube out, hard. It flew toward his face. He turned just in time, and it missed him by inches.
“Lick it yourself,” she snapped.
He stood up. Fast. Angry. The calm mask he’d been wearing cracked just slightly, and Emily saw something dangerous underneath.
“Who the f**k are you?” Emily demanded, standing up too. Her legs felt steadier now. Solid. “Why am I here? What do you want from me?”
She started walking toward him, her fists clenched. He didn’t move. Just watched her come closer.
“Why are you keeping me here?” she said, her voice rising. “Answer me!”
“Sit down,” he said.
“No.”
“Sit down. I don’t want you to faint again.”
Emily reached him and started hitting his chest. Not hard. Not enough to hurt him. But enough to make a point. Her fists pounded against the solid muscle there, and he didn’t even flinch.
“I’m not your property!” she shouted. “You can’t just….”
He grabbed her wrists. Gently, but firm. Then he pushed her backward, guiding her until the backs of her knees hit the couch. She fell onto it, looking up at him.
“Sit the f**k down,” he said, his voice colder now. “If you want to know why you’re here, sit the f**k down.”
Emily glared at him, but she stayed seated. Her chest was heaving, her pulse racing. He stepped back, giving her space.
“Drink?” he asked, moving toward a bar cart in the corner.
“No. Keep it to yourself”
He poured himself something dark. Whiskey, maybe. Took a sip, then turned back to her.
“Five years ago,” he said, “I was dying. On a rooftop in Sicily. I’d been shot. My father was already dead. I thought I was next.”
Emily watched him, her jaw tight.
“Then you were there,” he continued. “You saved my life. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. But you did.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about….”
“I thought it was a hallucination. Thought I’d imagined you. But I didn’t. You were real. And I’ve been looking for you ever since.”
Emily’s stomach dropped. “That’s insane.”
“I knew you’d be mine one day,” he said, his eyes locking onto hers. “I knew it the moment I saw your face.”
“So that’s why you kidn*pped me?”
“I didn’t kidnap you.”
“Yes, you did!”
“Think of it as a… uhmm a vacation.”
Emily stood up again, fury boiling over. “I don’t know what your issue is, but I’m not an object. You don’t own me. I don’t care if you hit your head when you got shot or if you’re just completely insane, but I’m not staying here.
You can’t kidnap me and think I’ll just obey.”
“I didn’t kidnap you,” he said again, his voice maddeningly calm.
“Nobody owns me.”
“I know.” He stepped closer. “That’s why I’m giving you an option. Fall in love with me.”
Emily stared at him. “What?”
“You’ll want to,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “I’ll make you want me.”
“I have a family,” Emily said, her voice shaking now. “They’ll look for me. My boyfriend. My best friend. They’ll come for me.”
“Your boyfriend?” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a file. Tossed it onto the couch beside her.
Emily picked it up. Opened it. Inside was a photograph.
Marco. With another woman. Kissing her. His hands on her waist, pulling her close.
The file slipped from Emily’s fingers and hit the floor.
“He doesn’t deserve you,” the man said. “My men already cleared out your things from the hotel. Left a note for Marco. Said you were traveling. That you’re done with the relationship.”
Emily couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. This was real. He was serious.
“You know what?” she said, standing up. “f**k off.”
She walked toward the door. Fast. But he was faster.
He grabbed her, spun her around, and pushed her back onto the couch. His weight pinned her there, his mouth hovering just above her neck. She felt his breath, hot on her skin. His hand moved slowly across her chest, fingers tracing the line of her collarbone.
Then he stopped.
“I won’t do anything,” he said, his voice rough, “if you don’t give me permission. I’ll wait. Until you desire me.” I’ll make you want me, I will make you beg for me
He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting hers.
“I won’t lock you up. But don’t provoke me.”
He stood, giving her space. Turned away.
“You have three hundred and sixty-five days,” he said. “One year. I’ll do anything. Buy you the moon if that’s what it takes. And if you don’t fall in love with me by your next birthday, I’ll set you free.”
Emily stood up. She didn’t think. Just ran.
Straight for the door.
But he was faster. He caught her before she made it two steps, pulling her back. He pinned her against the wall, one hand gently around her throat, the other holding her still. Their faces were inches apart. Both of them breathing hard. Noses almost touching.
Emily’s hand shot to his waistband. She grabbed his gun. Pulled it out. Aimed it at his chest.
“Let me go,” she said, her voice shaking. “Or I’ll shoot you.”
He didn’t even flinch. Didn’t panic. Just looked at her with those dark, unreadable eyes.
Then, in one smooth motion, he twisted the gun out of her hand. Spun her around. Pinned her to the wall again, this time with her chest pressed against it. Her back was against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat. Steady. Calm.
The door opened.
Two guards stepped inside, their eyes on Emily.
Boss, we have a delivery one said, he walked away from her and told the other guard to take her back to her room.
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